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Do you want to change things?
The voice had been soft, almost gentle, but it clung to him like a shadow, impossible to ignore. He sat up in bed, his heart pounding as he tried to shake off the remnants of the dream. The room was dark and silent, yet the question seemed to echo around him, threading itself into his thoughts. It wasn’t the first time he had considered it. Over the years, the idea of changing the past had crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit. But what could he have done differently? What should he have done differently? The thought gnawed at him, persistent and relentless, as the day stretched on. He went through his routine in a daze, the words playing on a loop in his head. By the time night fell again, he was too exhausted to resist sleep, and the moment his head hit the pillow, the darkness claimed him once more.
This time, the void wasn’t silent. Changmin found himself standing in an expanse of blackness, the air was still and suffocating, pressing down on him like the weight of unspoken words. He glanced around, his breath hitching as he saw her - a figure cloaked in light, her presence otherworldly yet strangely comforting.
“You heard me” - she said, her voice the same soft tone that had haunted his dreams, “Do you want to change things?”
Changmin stared at her, his throat tightening - “Who are you? What do you mean?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped closer, her gaze steady and piercing
“You’ve carried the weight of regret for so long, haven’t you? The choices made, the paths taken, the ones left behind. You wonder if things would have been different. If they could have been better”
Her words struck a nerve, and Changmin replied with a low voice low but edged with frustration.
“I don’t regret the choice we made. I only regret... that I couldn’t protect him. That I couldn’t stay by his side long enough to make sure he was safe… He left too soon…. And I wasn’t there” - his throat tightened at those last words, he almost couldn’t continue
“Do you truly believe keeping the group together would have saved him? That it would have brought him happiness?” - The woman’s expression softened, titling her head before wondering.
“I don’t know, but I’ve always wondered” - he admitted after a long pause with a tight feeling deep in his chest
She stepped closer, her presence both ethereal and grounding.
“You’re here because there’s a part of you that wonders what might have been. You think the past could have been rewritten, that keeping the group together would have been the answer” - Her gaze bore into his, sharp and unwavering, “But nothing is without consequence, human. A united TVXQ is not the solution you think it is”
“What do you mean?” – asking back with a deep frown.
“See for yourself”
The faintest of smiles graced her lips, though it was sadder than reassuring while saying before waving her hand through the air.
(During this period, Changmin isn’t actually traveling worlds but more like watching scenes unwrapped in front of him, scenes and life of another world’s Shim Changmin. He sees things by that person’s eyes, hears and feels everything; like he is actually experiencing and existing there but the reality, he isn’t)
The darkness around them began to shift, the void peeling away to reveal a timeline both familiar and foreign. Changmin found himself standing in their old dormitory, the faint hum of laughter echoing from the living room. For a moment, the scene felt comforting, almost nostalgic. But as he moved closer, he noticed the tension in their postures, the tight smiles that didn’t reach their eyes.
In this world, TVXQ had remained as five. The lawsuit never happened; instead, endless negotiations with the chairman had resulted in a fragile compromise. On the surface, they continued as they always had - five voices blending in perfect harmony, five bodies moving in sync under the stage lights. Cassiopeia rejoiced, their unwavering devotion feeding the illusion that everything was as it should be. But behind closed doors, cracks formed, small at first but steadily deepening as the years wore on.
They fought harder to stay afloat than they had ever fought for their rise. Their schedules were relentless, their profits still disproportionately skewed despite years of gruelling work. Even as they poured their energy into comebacks and tours, it became clear that they had hit a ceiling they couldn’t break through. Their global ambitions remained just out of reach, and with each passing year, the dream that had once united them grew fainter.
The members began to drift, not outwardly but in ways that Changmin, even as a passive observer, couldn’t ignore. Jaejoong’s frustration simmered beneath his carefully curated image of nonchalance, often spilling over in moments of exhaustion. Junsu grew quieter, his once-playful demeanour giving way to brooding silence. Yoochun’s soft smile strained, replaced by a weariness that even his passion for music couldn’t mask.
And Yunho - Yunho worked harder than any of them, as if sheer effort could compensate for the growing distance between them. It wasn’t hard to understand why. Yunho, who had already endured three failed debuts before TVXQ, had staked everything on their success; to him, this group wasn’t just a dream; it was his salvation. He practised endlessly, pushed himself to exhaustion, and threw himself into every performance as if it might be his last; yet determination alone couldn’t bridge the gaps that were forming.
Their unity became an unspoken burden.
No one wanted to be the one to admit it, but the constant strain was wearing them down. Arguments broke out more frequently, their voices rising in frustration only to fall into heavy silences. Nights that had once been filled with laughter and camaraderie were now marked by solitude and introspection. On one particularly tense evening, they gathered in the dorm’s living room after a gruelling rehearsal. Jaejoong sat with his arms crossed, his jaw tight as he stared at the floor.
“We’re stagnant. No matter how much we give, we’re not going anywhere” - he muttered, the words cutting through the oppressive silence
“We’re running in place, and everyone knows it. Fans, the company, even us” - Yoochun sighed, leaning back against the couch.
“It’s just a phase. We’ll figure it out” - Junsu, always the optimist, tried to lighten the mood, but even he sounded unconvinced.
Changmin, who had been quietly observing, spoke up
“Maybe the problem isn’t just the company. Maybe it’s us. Maybe we’re holding on to something that isn’t there any more”
The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over them like a shroud. Yunho, who had been unusually quiet, finally looked up. His voice was steady, but tinged with a desperation he couldn’t quite hide.
“We’re better than this. We just have to push harder. That’s all”
The others exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and resignation. Push harder. It was always Yunho’s answer, his unrelenting drive a double-edged sword that inspired and alienated them in equal measure.
By their twelfth anniversary, the cracks had become impossible to ignore. They announced their final tour, framing it as a celebration of their legacy. But the truth was undeniable - they were tired; the dreams that had fuelled them as teenagers had faded, leaving behind only doubt, frustration, and a desperate need for something new. Their farewell tour was both triumphant and heartbreaking. Cassiopeia filled stadiums, their red ocean burning brightly against the darkness, their chants echoing with unwavering devotion. But the members themselves were subdued, their performances tinged with a bittersweet finality.
After their last concert in Japan, they returned to Korea for one final meeting. It was Jaejoong who broke the silence, his voice raw with emotion.
“It’s time. We’ve given everything we could. Now we need to figure out who we are without this”
And none disagreed. Junsu nodded, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears. Yoochun stared at his hands, his expression unreadable. Even Changmin, who had always been pragmatic, felt an ache he couldn’t articulate. Yunho, however, said nothing.
In the months that followed, the members went their separate ways. Jaejoong and Yoochun pursued solo careers, while Junsu found his footing in musicals, and Changmin quietly transitioned into academia. Yunho, however, disappeared from the public eye.
It wasn’t until much later that they learned he had become a prosecutor, trading the stage for the courtroom. He poured himself into his new role with the same intensity that had once driven him as an idol, quickly earning a reputation as a relentless and highly respected figure. But the work was gruelling, and the enemies he made in his pursuit of justice were numerous.
Then came the news that shattered not just his family, but also all people loved and adored the man. Yunho was gone, killed in what the authorities ruled as an accident - a car crash on a rainy night, caused by a drunken, reckless driver who claimed he wasn’t at fault, but the prosecutor was. But those who knew him suspected otherwise. His work had made him powerful enemies, and the circumstances of his death were far too coincidental to be dismissed.
The scenes shifted, images flew pass his eyes with impressive speed before Changmin found himself stood at his hyung’s grave in the said world, the weight of everything he had seen and everything he hadn’t done pressing down on him. The memories of their shared journey played in his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost.
“This, is the cost of changing the past. Unity comes with its own sacrifices, and happiness is never guaranteed” - the mysterious woman’s voice cut through his grief, drawing him back to the void.
Changmin looked at her, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.
“I understand. Keeping us together wasn’t what Yunho might be what he needed desperately at the moment but wasn’t the truth after. I won’t make the mistake of holding on to a false thing when those things wasn’t anything but sources for every pain”
The woman regarded him with an approving nod, her expression softening.
“Then let us move forward”
With a wave of her hand, the vision dissolved, leaving Changmin to face whatever came next.